


Fear, No Loathing

by BiteMeTechie (The_Injustice_Trinity)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Crossover, Gen, Hallucinations, Road Trips, fear toxin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2020-03-08 00:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18884386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Injustice_Trinity/pseuds/BiteMeTechie
Summary: "There was every reason to believe I was heading for trouble, that I'd pushed my luck a bit far. I'd abused every rule Vegas lived by: burning the locals, abusing the tourists, terrifying the help."





	Fear, No Loathing

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Free For All Fic For All--or FFAFFA for short--over on tumblr, specifically the 2012 round. Please pretend it hasn’t taken me five years to get back to uploading these.
> 
>  **Prompt** : Scarecrow and Raoul Duke—the main character from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—on a road trip.

The armadillo goes  _ **squish**_  under the wheels of the cherry bright Polara as it rolls along the smooth silver desert highway at eighty miles an hour, leaving a smear of blood and guts and rough green-brown hide in its wake. One hand on the wheel, the driver fumbles with the various junk in the passenger seat, looking for something,  _anything_ useful, discarding much, keeping little.

_Thump. Thump._

Yellow lensed wraparound sunglasses are flung over his shoulder and hit the road, the bridge of the nose shattering in half on impact; a reel-to-reel tape belting out the Rolling Stones is torn from its player, fluttering through the breeze before it lands in a brown spaghetti muddle spread across four lanes of shimmering cement.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Cigarettes? Worthless. Ether? Possibly useful, if there's anything left in the can. Salt shaker, half full?

He stares at it for a moment. Why would anyone need a salt shaker in the middle of the Nevada desert?

The salt shaker shatters in the space between two yellow dashes on the road, a glittering oasis of glass and white dust, caressed by the heat rising off the ground.

_Thump, thump, thump, thump._

The driver mentally catalogues each of the drugs in sandwich bags in between glances at the empty highway in front of him, tosses the least useful ones, and keeps digging. No knives, no guns. Notepads, road maps, a wallet…

He sits back in the driver's seat, flips the wallet open and looks at the driver's license there:  _Raoul Duke._

_Thump, thump, thump, thumpthumpthump! Bats! Goddamn bats!_

Well, if nothing else, he knows who he's got fear toxined up and hallucinating in the trunk.

**Author's Note:**

> _Yes, I am insinuating that all of Fear and Loathing was just one long fear toxin induced hallucination. Because I can._


End file.
